Moby Dick; Or, The Whale

CHAPITRE 25. Postscript.

This chapter serves as a closing reflection on the author’s dedication to factual representation while defending the dignity of whaling. The chapter presents a fanciful argument connecting the whaling industry to royal ceremony through the oils used in coronation rituals. The tone blends earnest advocacy with humorous speculation, ultimately celebrating the role of British whalemen in supplying a seemingly mysterious substance essential to the crowning of monarchs.

Whaling Advocacy and the Legitimacy of Supporting Surmise

The chapter opens by asserting the author’s commitment to presenting only substantiated facts in defense of whaling’s dignity. However, it argues that an advocate who suppresses reasonable surmise that might strengthen his cause would be blameworthy. This passage introduces the chapter’s dual approach: maintaining factual credibility while allowing for educated speculation about the mysterious connections between whaling and royal tradition.

Coronation Anointing Rituals and Exclusion of Common Oil Types

The text describes the coronation rituals of kings and queens, noting particularly the solemn anointing of a monarch’s head with oil—a process the author compares to seasoning salad. A detailed catalog of excluded oils follows: olive oil, macassar oil, castor oil, bear’s oil, train oil, and cod-liver oil are all dismissed as possibilities for this sacred purpose. The chapter muses on the inherent dignity of the regal process, contrasting it with the common disdain for men who visibly anoint their hair with scented oils, suggesting such men likely have “a quoggy spot” in their character.

Identification of Coronation Oil as Unrefined Sperm Oil and Appeal to British Whalemen

The climax of the chapter identifies the coronation oil as “sperm oil in its unmanufactured, unpolluted state, the sweetest of all oils.” The author directly addresses British whalemen with triumphant irony, declaring that they supply the very substance used to crown British monarchs. This fanciful claim serves to elevate the whaling industry by connecting it to the highest levels of royal ceremony, transforming what might be seen as a humble or crude occupation into one essential to the sacred institution of monarchy.

CHAPITRE 26. Knights and Squires.

This chapter introduces the principal officers of the Pequod, focusing on Chief Mate Starbuck and including a philosophical digression on the inherent dignity of common men.

Introduction of Chief Mate Starbuck

The chief mate Starbuck is introduced as a native of Nantucket and a Quaker by descent. He is described as a long, earnest man whose flesh is hard as twice-baked biscuit, seemingly well adapted to endure both cold and hot latitudes. Despite his thinness—attributed to thirty arid summers—his pure tight skin and inner health and strength give him the appearance of a revivified Egyptian, prepared to endure for ages in any climate. His eyes reveal the lingering images of thousand-fold perils he has calmly confronted. Notably conscientious for a seaman and endowed with a deep natural reverence, Starbuck possesses a wild watery loneliness that strongly inclines him to superstition—though of a kind that seems to spring from intelligence rather than ignorance. Outward portents and inward presentiments affect him, and his domestic memories of his young Cape wife and child further temper his rugged nature.

Stubb’s Assessment of Starbuck

Stubb, the second mate, offers his assessment of Starbuck, declaring him “as careful a man as you’ll find anywhere in this fishery.” However, the narrative hints that the meaning of “careful” as used by a man like Stubb will be explored more deeply, suggesting there may be ambiguity or irony in this characterization.

Starbuck’s Philosophy of Courage and Whaling Practice

Starbuck articulates a distinctive philosophy on courage: he states, “I will have no man in my boat who is not afraid of a whale,” meaning that the most reliable courage arises from the fair estimation of encountered peril, and that an utterly fearless man is more dangerous than a coward. For Starbuck, courage is not a sentiment but a practical tool, one of the staple outfits of the ship like beef and bread. He refuses to lower for whales after sunset or persist in fighting a fish that fights back, reasoning that he is in the fishery to kill whales for his living, not to be killed by them. Haunted by memories of his father and brother’s fate at sea, Starbuck’s courage—though extreme—remains tempered by latent fear that could potentially break out under the right circumstances, particularly when confronting the spiritual terrors of an enraged and mighty man.